


honey, you could make me good again

by mikaylawrites



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:28:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28532187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikaylawrites/pseuds/mikaylawrites
Summary: “Don’t worry about it. It gave me a jump on the whole ‘for better or for worse’ thing.”Donna isn't used to being taken care of.
Relationships: Josh Lyman/Donna Moss
Comments: 5
Kudos: 66





	honey, you could make me good again

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Boom Forest’s “Freshly Laundered Linen”

The moment Donna opens her eyes, she regrets every single decision she’s ever made. Her head is pounding and there’s a thin, sour film coating her mouth. _Tequila_ , she thinks, and the word alone is enough to make her stomach roll. She groans, throwing an arm across her face. 

“Good morning, my betrothed,” says a familiar voice. She turns her head to see Josh sitting next to her in bed, still in his pajamas with his laptop open in front of him. “How do you feel?”

“I’ve been better,” she mutters. 

He laughs, reaching to brush her sweaty bangs out of her eyes. “I bet. Did you have fun last night?”

“Yes,” she answers, before adding, “the parts I remember, anyway.”

“Which parts are those?”

Donna racks her brain for an answer. She had been adamant she didn’t want a stereotypical bachelorette party: no phallic party favors, no male strippers, and definitely no getting blackout drunk. Margaret offered to host a low-key girl’s night at her house in Arlington because it was easier than having the Secret Service clear out a D.C. bar on a Saturday. Donna remembers eating takeout and opening some raunchy gifts, but then C.J. brought out a deck of cards and a bottle of Don Julio and everything gets a little fuzzy.

“So you don’t remember getting home?” Josh asks after she lists the events she can recall. 

“Not exactly.”

He opens his mouth to say something then seems to change his mind, nodding instead.

“Why?” she asks, suddenly suspicious. 

“No reason,” he says, but he isn’t quite meeting her eyes. 

“What happened?” she demands, pushing herself up into a sitting position and ignoring how the movement makes her stomach turn. “Did I wake you up?”

Josh looks sheepish. “You didn’t. Paul called me after he dropped C.J. off at her hotel. He, uh, he warned me that I might want to be awake when you came in because you might need some help.”

“Did I?” When Josh nods, she groans and wonders how she’ll ever face their Secret Service agent again. “What exactly did I need help with?”

“Well, Paul mentioned you weren’t feeling well. He thought you were looking a little green.”

Her mouth falls open. “Oh God, I didn’t -”

“Yack in the car?” He's biting back a smirk now, enjoying this. “No, you saved that until you got home.”

“Please tell me I -”

“Made it to the toilet? Yes. When you walked in the door you informed me that I needed to get you to the bathroom ASAP, or we weren’t getting my security deposit back.”

“What did I do then?” She’s starting to get flashes of kneeling on the cold tile floor, but not much else.

“I helped you take a shower, gave you some water, and put you to bed. You were asleep before I even shut the lights off.”

“Oh God,” she moans, burying her face in her hands. 

“Don’t worry about it. It gave me a jump on the whole ‘for better or for worse’ thing.”

Donna feels the usual post-intoxication anxiety creeping up her throat, this time joined by a burning embarrassment. This is exactly what she didn’t want. She was supposed to have a quiet night catching up with her friends, not get wasted in front of her boss and Secret Service detail and make Josh babysit her. She’s a grown woman, for God’s sake, not some teenager who broke into her parents’ liquor cabinet. 

It only takes Josh a few seconds to realize that she’s spiraling. “Hey,” he says softly, prying her hands away from her face and taking them in his own. “Hey, sweetheart, no. I was just giving you shit. It really wasn’t a big deal, I was barely asleep when Paul called me.”

“You were supposed to watch the Knicks game with Sam and go to bed early. You weren’t supposed to have to take care of me.”

“I want to take care of you,” Josh insists, looking taken aback and a little hurt. “I mean, I’d prefer if you weren’t risking alcohol poisoning on a regular basis, but when you don’t feel well I’m going to take care of you. You know that, right?”

Of course she knows it. They’ve always taken care of each other in their unique, repressed way. But there’s a chafing vulnerability to being cared for so completely and unabashedly, one that she’s not quite used to. 

“You’re squeamish,” she argues lamely. 

He’s rubbing circles on her inner wrist now. “Donna, I’m ready for it all. I can handle a lot more than holding your hair back and putting your drunk ass to bed.”

She cracks a smile at that because, really, how can she not? Josh is smiling too, that boyish, dimpled smile that always makes her want to kiss him. She reaches for him, intending to do just that, when something occurs to her.

“Did I -”

“Brush your teeth? Of course you did. Even three sheets to the wind you were concerned with your dental hygiene.”

“That was very responsible of me,” she says and then she’s kissing him and he’s pulling her into his embrace, and she thinks that she never feels so loved as she does in the warm cradle of his arms. 

Josh is still grinning when they break apart. He tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. “Let’s get some food into you. What do you want? Eggs? Toast?”

“Pancakes?” she asks hopefully and he laughs and kisses her head before pushing back the duvet.

Half an hour later Josh sets their syrupy plates on his nightstand. He slides his arms around her, pulling her down until they flop onto the mattress. Their limbs tangle instinctually, bodies fitting together like pieces of a puzzle. His fingers skate up her back and into her hair, finding the source of her headache and massaging expertly. 

“That feels good, honey,” she purrs. 

“You feel good,” he replies nonsensically. 

Donna doesn’t respond, feeling her eyelids starting to droop as her head moves along with Josh’s fingers. 

“Sleepy?” he asks. She nods against his chest. “Close your eyes for a while. I doubt Helen is expecting you to get any work done today.”

She resists the urge to quip back, both because he’s right and because she’s already starting to doze off. She hums, nestling closer. “Josh?” 

“Hmm?”

“Thanks for taking care of my drunk ass.” 

“Any time,” Josh says, and Donna knows he means it.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure how feasible it would be for Donna to have a bachelorette party as Chief of Staff (especially with the First Lady as a guest), but once I got this idea I had to run with it. Thank you for reading!


End file.
